Tall window into the world. My Fishbowl.

Tall clear window,

Gives me a view, with a seat in-front of it

that supports the writer and the words that swell out of a

mangled mess of jello like brains.

Mixed amongst the words sweet sugar cookies and cream invading black

night liquid.

Jitters, shaking arms, a shot of energy and consciousness

Words of unfiltered sorts tumble out as the people on the pavement

walk by, cycle by, drive by in metal boxes with strange wheels that move

moving somewhere, going somewhere.

I am supported by a hard wooden chair that absorbs nothing.

Sitting waiting for the words to tumble out, in the right order?

Never really since words have a mind of its own and a strange new order to bring order to the disorderly.

Later perhaps tomorrow the sense of the words make sense or none at all.

Maybe if I look outside the words will make sense?

Two hours later…

I wonder where time went.

The coffee is gone, as did the sugar.

Hello words what can I do with you today?






Wheels on the street.

Spokes, circles, round spirals
Supporting weight, light and heavy and all in between.
Taking the people places
Here there somewhere nice
time is nice, the view is more so fruitful with a cup of ice tea.

Deaf Man Passes Cards and Pens

Deaf man passes cards and pens

To each table with occupants

Asking for money

A bit of money

To fuel his life

With change that was not his own

What change can become of this?

Not much at all but more walking

Passing cards and asking with

A small card for change.

Change that is not given

For the skeptic

Does not know fully

What shoes he wears.

Contemplating weather or not to write that essay still

Still I am thinking about that essay.

I should write it and get things going so I can enjoy those other fun things in life.

Snuggling, sleep, snacking be swept silently asunderĀ 

from me I get a frightful freeze, that solidifies my ability to move

to think of words that lead on, and tumble forth like waterfalls in my mind

words join that cesspool and go back to the river, recycle into a new use, a new function. Continue reading

Laughing at life and uncle cards.

I’ve really reached a boiling point.

double deadline and I would rather not write

what I am supposed to.

I don’t know why but words don’t want to become useful to me

when I need it for academics

reality excluded I could say I have academic writer’s block.

MLA isn’t my thing. but its the mode around so there isn’t much to do about it.

i should write write write like a busy bee but I am such a cat nibbling on catnip

I should work this out, but ain’t it a charm when I can write like this and

an argument of mine just doesn’t become concrete and solidify

take form on paper where I can see you.

Papers, essays, exams go write yourselves!

I’ve enough of you and I’d rather be elsewhere

you interfere with my snuggle time with my stuffed penguin and telly time.